for a week’s holiday in the bags under my eyes.’ She let Karen go and waved an arm towards the stairs. ‘Come away up and we’ll have a proper blether.’
‘It’s good to see you,’ Karen said to Giorsal’s back as they climbed up to the first floor. ‘Whenever I’ve heard news of you over the years, I always felt sorry we’d lost touch.’
Giorsal gave a quick look over her shoulder. ‘I was so impressed when my mum told me you’d made DI. Serious business, that. And now DCI. Check you out, girl.’ She led the way into a small office. It was tidier than Karen could have managed. She expected to see photos of Giorsal’s kids on the desk and said so.
Giorsaldropped into her chair, gesturing towards the two visitors’ chairs facing her. She made a wry face. ‘I don’t like to shove my good fortune in people’s faces.’ Then she straightened up and leaned forward, forearms on the desk, face sombre. ‘I heard about your man,’ she said. ‘That’s a helluva thing to get past.’
‘I’m not there yet. Nothing like there, actually.’ Karen cleared her throat. She wasn’t ready to get into this with Giorsal. She half-hoped there would be a time when she would be, but it would be a way down the road. ‘Nice office, by the way.’
Giorsal snorted. ‘Make the most of it. We’re being shunted out of here in a few weeks. The council sold the building to CISWO for buttons and we’re joining the happy band at Fife House.’
‘CISWO?’
‘The Coal Industry Social Welfare Organisation.’
Karen nodded her understanding. Thirty years since Thatcher had killed off the Fife coalfield, and still the damage reverberated through the local economy and the communities who had depended on it. ‘Fair enough, I suppose,’ she said.
‘They need somewhere since the council decided to bulldoze their building to redevelop the town centre. But you didn’t come here to talk about town planning.’ She gave the engaging grin that Karen remembered, eyebrows steepling at an acute angle.
‘No. Look, Gus, I’d genuinely like to get together and have a proper catch-up, but I’ve picked up a case that I need to make some progress on, only it’s complicated and I don’t know my way through the complications and I think you probably do.’
Giorsal smiled. ‘If I can help, I will. On condition that we have a night out very soon.’
‘Deal.’
‘Yousaid on the phone it was about adoption law?’
Karen gave Giorsal a swift but comprehensive outline of the situation Ross Garvie’s recklessness had provoked. ‘I thought I had nothing more to do than take a buccal swab from Stewart Garvie and I’d have an overnight result.’ She shook her head. ‘I should have known better. I’ve been doing cold cases long enough to know it’s seldom that easy.’
Giorsal made a rueful noise. ‘Well, when it comes to adoption law, you’re better off here than if you were down south, that’s one good thing.’
‘How’s that?’
‘OK, first the history lesson. Scots law enshrines the principle of forced heirship. In other words, you can’t disinherit your kids. They’re legally entitled to between a third and a half of what’s called your movable estate – cash, stocks and shares, that sort of thing. Until the law changed in the 1960s, that applied to all your biological children, even if they’d been adopted. It doesn’t apply to adopted children any longer, but the laws that were put in place to make it possible for them to uncover their history stayed the same even though their inheritance rights disappeared.’
‘OK, that sort of makes sense. So what’s the score?’
‘When an adoption takes place, a new birth certificate is issued in the names of the adopted parents and the first name of their choice. And an extract of that is held on the Adoption Register. That’s held separately from the births, marriages and deaths registers that the public can access.
‘Once the adopted person turns sixteen,
‘It’s good to see you,’ Karen said to Giorsal’s back as they climbed up to the first floor. ‘Whenever I’ve heard news of you over the years, I always felt sorry we’d lost touch.’
Giorsal gave a quick look over her shoulder. ‘I was so impressed when my mum told me you’d made DI. Serious business, that. And now DCI. Check you out, girl.’ She led the way into a small office. It was tidier than Karen could have managed. She expected to see photos of Giorsal’s kids on the desk and said so.
Giorsaldropped into her chair, gesturing towards the two visitors’ chairs facing her. She made a wry face. ‘I don’t like to shove my good fortune in people’s faces.’ Then she straightened up and leaned forward, forearms on the desk, face sombre. ‘I heard about your man,’ she said. ‘That’s a helluva thing to get past.’
‘I’m not there yet. Nothing like there, actually.’ Karen cleared her throat. She wasn’t ready to get into this with Giorsal. She half-hoped there would be a time when she would be, but it would be a way down the road. ‘Nice office, by the way.’
Giorsal snorted. ‘Make the most of it. We’re being shunted out of here in a few weeks. The council sold the building to CISWO for buttons and we’re joining the happy band at Fife House.’
‘CISWO?’
‘The Coal Industry Social Welfare Organisation.’
Karen nodded her understanding. Thirty years since Thatcher had killed off the Fife coalfield, and still the damage reverberated through the local economy and the communities who had depended on it. ‘Fair enough, I suppose,’ she said.
‘They need somewhere since the council decided to bulldoze their building to redevelop the town centre. But you didn’t come here to talk about town planning.’ She gave the engaging grin that Karen remembered, eyebrows steepling at an acute angle.
‘No. Look, Gus, I’d genuinely like to get together and have a proper catch-up, but I’ve picked up a case that I need to make some progress on, only it’s complicated and I don’t know my way through the complications and I think you probably do.’
Giorsal smiled. ‘If I can help, I will. On condition that we have a night out very soon.’
‘Deal.’
‘Yousaid on the phone it was about adoption law?’
Karen gave Giorsal a swift but comprehensive outline of the situation Ross Garvie’s recklessness had provoked. ‘I thought I had nothing more to do than take a buccal swab from Stewart Garvie and I’d have an overnight result.’ She shook her head. ‘I should have known better. I’ve been doing cold cases long enough to know it’s seldom that easy.’
Giorsal made a rueful noise. ‘Well, when it comes to adoption law, you’re better off here than if you were down south, that’s one good thing.’
‘How’s that?’
‘OK, first the history lesson. Scots law enshrines the principle of forced heirship. In other words, you can’t disinherit your kids. They’re legally entitled to between a third and a half of what’s called your movable estate – cash, stocks and shares, that sort of thing. Until the law changed in the 1960s, that applied to all your biological children, even if they’d been adopted. It doesn’t apply to adopted children any longer, but the laws that were put in place to make it possible for them to uncover their history stayed the same even though their inheritance rights disappeared.’
‘OK, that sort of makes sense. So what’s the score?’
‘When an adoption takes place, a new birth certificate is issued in the names of the adopted parents and the first name of their choice. And an extract of that is held on the Adoption Register. That’s held separately from the births, marriages and deaths registers that the public can access.
‘Once the adopted person turns sixteen,
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